


To Mend What is Broken

by 1917farmgirl



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Broken Merlin, Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gen, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23373694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1917farmgirl/pseuds/1917farmgirl
Summary: When the build up of guilt, pain and loss leaves Merlin shattering, it's up to Arthur to figure out how to help his servant and friend mend the pieces of his soul.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 60





	To Mend What is Broken

**TO MEND WHAT IS BROKEN**

**Author’s Note:**  
This is probably not my best story. It’s been written fast and I haven’t poured over it in revision. But that’s mostly on purpose. I’ve been struggling against a MASSIVE build up of writer’s block brought on by stress and lack of time and more stress. This is my attempt to get past that, to just let the words flow without overthinking them and find release in writing again.

There will be four chapters and an epilogue to this little exercise. They’ve been plotted and won’t be horribly long, but maybe it will be enough to get my muse to relax again.

Special thanks to my friend Gingeraffealene for encouragement, cheerleading, and a few choice paragraphs that I just couldn’t get out. Please don’t kill me when you wake up and see I posted. LOL

**1\. Catalyst**

In the end, after months and months of holding the pieces of his soul together and hiding his pain, it was the cat that broke him.

Dizzy with fatigue, Merlin reached down with leaden arms to pull up another charred and ruined board and toss it aside. It was barely even dawn and the streets were empty, but the servant was already filthy, his hair plastered to his head by the light drizzle that had started about an hour earlier. He gripped the slippery wood, tugged it loose, went to throw it out of the way, and then froze.

There, lying in the mud, its fur singed and plastered and eyes unseeing, was the cat. The grey cat with the distinctive white nose. The little animal that greeted him every time he went to market or ran an errand for Arthur in the lower town. The innocent creature with trusting eyes that rubbed his legs and begged for a treat and made him laugh.

The little cat was dead.

And Merlin cracked. 

The board slipped from his numb hands as he sank to his knees, tears he wasn’t even aware of beginning to mix with the rain on his cheeks. His shoulders began to tremble and sobs he could no longer hold back took over.

Because it wasn’t just a cat. It was so much more.

It was Will, dying before his eyes, a friend Merlin wasn’t allowed to mourn. 

It was Freya – oh his Freya! Dead and gone and no one even knew she’d lived! His heart broken beyond repair.

It was a father found and lost in a single day – tears not permitted. 

It was a dragon he’d trusted, who’d betrayed him. And so many killed, so many lives gone…his fault – millstones about his own soul.

It was a friend who’d trusted him, whom he’d in turn betrayed. The look in her eyes, the divide he’d just sealed…more guilt to bear.

It was fate and destiny and he was just too tired, too shattered and gone.

Reality slid away from him as he sat for hours in the soot and rain, sobbing and falling to pieces over the body of a little street cat.

*****

Arthur was missing his manservant.

Again.

And he was so done with it.

It had been a rough few weeks for everyone – he wouldn’t deny that. Disastrous, and he’d even admit to heartbreaking as his thoughts flashed on Morgana and the dead from the lower town – but he was the prince and it was his duty to set an example, to calm fears and start putting things to rights. His father was shaken to the core…so it was up to him to pick up the kingdom and carry on. And he couldn’t very well do that when his own servant failed to show up to wake him, dress him, and feed him!

He stormed through the castle toward the physician’s chambers in rumpled clothes and with his hair uncombed, mentally rehearsing the tirade he would blast Merlin with. This was serious. This time his servant wouldn’t worm his way out of it. This time –

“Sire?”

“What?” he snapped, rounding on the single knight who had dared to interrupt him.  
“I’m sorry, my lord,” the man – Leon he now realized – said. 

“What is it, Leon?” he asked, trying for an apologetic tone as he ran one hand through his messy hair.

“I think you should see this.”

The streets were grey - streaked with ash, soot, and rain from the clouds that hung low – and silent, the people still sleeping the rest of the exhausted. He followed Leon to where the piles of rubble had yet to be cleared, and then froze.

“One of the guards found him about half an hour ago and reported to me. I thought it best to find you,” Leon said quietly, waving for the lone guard to hang back now that they had arrived.

Merlin sat hunched in the mud on the ground before the body of a cat.

Arthur’s first gut-reaction was to tease him; flying to pieces over a mangy, dead cat? But the thought died almost as soon as it appeared. There was something about his posture, the way his body trembled but his still weeping eyes were frighteningly vacant and lost, as if this grief plunged to the unfathomable depths… Merlin was a kind-hearted lad with a soft spot for animals, but this was about more than just a cat – this was a young man who was shattering.

Quietly, he approached his servant, sinking onto the ground so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. 

“Hey, Merlin,” he said softly, bumping him lightly as he’d done often before. 

Merlin didn’t even acknowledge him, and Arthur was floundering, completely unsure of how to proceed.

“Is this that cat you told me about a while ago, the one that tried to follow you home?” he asked. The cat was not the real problem – he knew that – but he didn’t know what else to ask.

Still no answer.

“It’s awfully cold and wet out, and heaven knows that ratty jacket isn’t good for anything. Would you like to come inside?”

Merlin leaned into him, just the tiniest little bit, and Arthur took that as an answer. He stood up, carefully hauling his friend to his feet. For just a moment, he worried he might have to carry the servant, but with an iron grip on Merlin’s arm, the boy’s wobbly legs held. Slowly, he guided the all but comatose young man away from the scene.

“Send the guard ahead to Gaius,” he stopped to whisper to Leon, “and then have him find Guinevere. And Leon,” he added, voice dropping even lower as he nodded back to the sad creature in the mud, “please bury that cat.”

*****

“He’s been doing what?” Arthur roared at Gaius. “For how long?” 

“Sire, please!” Gaius scolded, nodding at Merlin. 

Arthur lowered his voice, but not his anger, especially as he glanced at his friend. The boy was lying on a cot that had been pulled up next to the fire, swaddled in blankets and no longer trembling thanks to one of Gaius’s concoctions, but his eyes were still empty pools of grief. Guinevere held his hand and whispered soothing nothings, but Arthur raged. He would not soon forget the frail, emaciated body that had been revealed as Gaius stripped off the boy’s wet clothes, proof that his friend had been skipping meals for long enough that Arthur knew he should have noticed. “You’re telling me you _knew_ he hadn’t been sleeping, had been pushing himself to clear the town night after night, after a full day of already exhausting work, and you did nothing to stop him?” the prince growled.

“How was I supposed to stop him?” Gaius snapped, his own emotions finally leaking through. “You know the boy! Has anyone ever been able to stop him once his mind is made up?”

“Arthur, Gaius,” Guinevere suddenly cut in, her voice soft but firm. “Stop this. It’s not helping anyone, least of all Merlin.”

Arthur sighed. He longed to sink down on a bench in the warm room, stay at Merlin’s side, watch over his friend, demand to know what was grieving him – because he was fully aware that this was not just exhaustion. But he was the crown prince of a kingdom recovering from battle, which meant his own wishes could not even be considered.

“Take care of him, Gaius,” he ordered softly, hoping the old physician could hear the apology that status prevented him from actually uttering. “I’ll send someone to check on him later.”

Gaius bowed slightly in acknowledgement and Arthur nodded. He caught Guinevere’s eye for just a moment, read the unspoken promise to remain, and then forced himself to leave.

*****

Thoughts and memories plagued Arthur all day.

As he organized shelters and provisions in the lower town, he thought of Merlin. When was the last time he’d actually seen the boy eat something? Sit down and stop long enough to consume a real meal? Why hadn’t he noticed?

As he prepared letters from the crown to be sent with condolences and compensation to the families of the knights and guards who had lost their lives in the dragon’s attack, he thought of Merlin. Thought of the open grief he’d displayed at the death of the dragonlord. How he’d brushed it aside, basically told the boy to man up. That grief had meant something, though, but Arthur – ever pathetic with real feelings – had ignored it. Why had he done that? Why hadn’t he asked?

He reviewed the castle stores, held council with nervous lords and nobles in his father’s stead, and visited the king – who was thankfully doing much better. But all the while, his thoughts still drifted to his idiot of a servant.

And the more he thought, the more he realized.

Merlin, for all that he had a perpetual bright smile pasted across his face, had not been all right for a long while.

And Arthur... He’d been utterly blind.

*****

“How’s he doing?” the prince asked quietly as he pushed open the chamber door and crept inside. Gaius smothered a smile, not at all surprised that the person the young royal had chosen to come check on Merlin was none other than himself.

“He is resting – finally,” the physician answered, wearily gesturing to where his surrogate son slept by the fire. “I sent Gwen home when he fell asleep.”

Arthur walked over to the bed, gazing down at the sleeping boy, the worry and fondness on his face so clear to anyone who knew him, though Gaius knew better than to ever tell the young prince he saw it. 

“Will he be all right?”

And now Gaius sighed, turning away, back to the herbs he was grinding, feeling old and rather useless.

“Gaius,” Arthur pressed, following him around the table.

“This is an ailment of the heart and soul, my lord, that has progressed to the physical realm. Can he get better? Certainly, with proper rest and food and care. But a heart that is broken is not so easily mended, and a soul that is despairing can rarely be persuaded to take care of its physical needs…”

“But why? What’s happened to him, Gaius? Why is he like this, so…sad? He’s just Merlin, just a servant!”

“That’s just the problem, sire. He’s Merlin – a young man of deep feeling. It is that which gives him his kindness and understanding – his compassion – but there is a price to be paid. Surely, you’ve noticed? This…ailment… has not come on all at once, but has been months in the making. The cost of a tender heart and keen sense of responsibility can be terrible for one so young.”

The expressions rushing across the young prince’s face told Gaius everything he needed to know. Arthur _had_ noticed but had pushed it aside, safe in obliviousness. And Merlin, despite what everyone thought of him, was an expert at deception, playing the part of happy-go-lucky servant so well that no one even thought to dig deeper.

Until they’d arrived here.

“How do we fix it?” the royal pleaded.

Gaius shrugged sorrowfully. “With time and care. Patience.” He sank onto the bench, his own grief letting the helplessness he felt slip out. “I wish, sire…I wish I knew.”


End file.
